A Lovely Little Thing Called Crazy
by Sirens And Muses
Summary: Behind every good man is an even better woman. Usually kicking his ass. The story of Damas. Rated T because Damas says and he will always be better than you.
1. Chapter 1

**Siren: Well, we decided to delete 'Fear'. We re-read it and...ugh.  
**

**Muse: We just didn't like how it turned out. Instead, we started a hopefully better fic.**

**Siren: About Damas!**

**Muse: ...**

**Siren: ...**

**Muse: So you noticed it too.**

**Siren: That we have an unhealthy obsession with father-son relationships in video games?**

**Muse: Yeah, that. Disclaimer!**

**(poof) Fortune Cookie: Sirens & Muses don't own the Jak Series.**

**Siren: What's our fortune?**

**F.C.: ...That wasn't chicken. (poof)**

**Siren: I'm so glad I ordered pepper steak.**

**Muse: I'll be over here vomiting up sweet and sour chicken.**

**Siren: Review please?  
**

_

* * *

As with many of fate's mysteries, it begins with but a small act of disobedience._

"Damas, pay attention!" The seventeen year old snatched his hand off the desk before the ruler smacked him. He looked up at the elderly teacher staring down at him in disdain.

"You," she said sternly, "are in no position to slack off. You have much maturing, much learning, before you can become king."

Damas sighed and stared at his textbook again. What was he supposed to be learning? Oh, yeah, the history of Mar.

"Now," the teacher said, keeping her beady eyes on him, "tell me, why did Mar build the canal system in the industrial district?"

"Because…" Damas sighed and rubbed his eyes. "…the agricultural district needed water and that was the fastest way through."

"Correct." The teacher turned back to the blackboard, filling in a timeline. "Now, when Mar was faced with the task of…"

Damas started to tune her out again and stared out the window. Outside, the sun was shining down on the citizens of Haven City. He could see the kids below, laughing as they played a game. There were people milling around in the bazaar, chatting and haggling for items. He sighed wistfully.

"We're done with this lesson. Take lunch," the teacher said. Damas didn't even hesitate in rushing out the door.

As the prince and heir of Haven City, Damas lived a restricted, scheduled life. From the time he woke up to the late afternoon, he was immersed in his studies: the teachings of Mar, the ancient scriptures of the Precursors, the science of eco, and anything else his father deemed important. After his tutoring, he was free to roam Haven until dinnertime. Then he got to go to sleep so he could do it all over again tomorrow.

The weekends, however, were his time to be free. Or, rather, as free as the King allowed him to be. Damas was forbidden to race in the stadium, to eat food prepared outside the palace, to enter the slums alone, or to be wondering after dark. And those were only a few of the set rules his father, who was probably afraid of his own shadow, imposed.

He was, to put it lightly, sheltered.

After his lunch, he trudged back to the classroom that had been designed solely for his tutoring. Once he entered the room, though, Damas cheered up. There was a royal guard waiting for him, and the only reason he would be here during school time was when Damas was going out somewhere in the city. Usually the library or a museum to study some more about, shockingly, Mar; but occasionally, his father would arrange a visit to Onin, the blind soothsayer, or Samos, the…Damas wasn't quite sure _what_ Samos was, aside from old. Sometimes, he didn't even know where he was going or why, just happy to get out of the palace.

Today, he was sure, he was headed for the library. The teacher was accompanying him, which she didn't do unless he was going somewhere scholarly. Silently, he followed the teacher and bodyguard out of the palace and through the streets of Haven City. He was never allowed to ride in a zoomer, another of his father's insane fears. So instead, he walked through the street, getting odd stares from many people.

They reached the library, a huge, archaic building with elegant decorations adoring its entrance. Damas had always found it ironic that, while many people saw Mar's greatest and most important structure to be the library, there were no statues of him near it. Instead, the stadium displayed his likeness outside it.

"Ask the librarian," his teacher said, pointing a bony finger towards the desk, where an uptight, older librarian sat at the desk. "You need any text on the structure of the city Mar built."

Damas exhaled as he headed up to the desk. "Excuse me," he asked politely, and got a 'shh' noise instead. "I need to know-" He once again got the 'shh' and a finger pointing at the card catalog.

"Great," Damas mumbled. He passed a giggling group of girls sitting there and winked at one of them. They giggled harder and blushed, waving.

"Stop flirting," the teacher said coldly from behind him. He frowned and went back into the shelves of books. There was, he knew, an entire section on Mar, and that was his best bet to find the books he needed. However, he got sidetracked.

In the fiction section, there was a young woman, about his age, who was reading alone. She looked like a younger version of the librarian: glasses, hair in a ponytail, intent and focused on her book. However, this girl was marginally better to look at. Particularly her hair. He'd never see anything like it. The roots were a marvelous green color, but it faded to blond the longer it went. Damas glanced around to check where his teacher was (examining a book on…something) before walking over to where she sat.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said softly as he passed her. She jerked her head up, startled. Damas left before she saw him, smirking as he did so. One of his favorite things to do was to tease and flirt with girls, even though he could never get involved with them. His father said his marriage would be arranged, which wasn't exactly what Damas wanted, but since when did the king really care much about what Damas wanted?

He was striding off towards the section on Mar when he heard, quite loudly for a library, "Laying it on a little thick there, Casanova?"

It was Damas' turn to be surprised. Not many girls talked back to his flirtatious remarks. But when he turned, her head was back down over her book. He turned suspiciously back towards the Mar section and browsed. Five minutes later, having found three books on the subject, he turned back around. The girl was now standing beside the shelves, hunting for a book. Her attention was completely focused on authors Au-Bn. He grinned and snuck up behind her, placing his hands over her eyes.

"Guess who, sweetheart?" he whispered, and was answered with an elbow slamming into his stomach. He groaned and doubled over in pain. The girl leaned down to look him in the eye.

"My name's not 'sweetheart'," she whispered viciously. "And I'm not about to tell you what it really is, you womanizing jerk."

Damas tried to recover with a snarky comment, but found himself dumbfounded. He'd never been hit that hard before, definitely never by a girl.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" he said, deciding to pull rank on her. People usually apologized pretty quickly to their leader's son.

"Damas, son of Roma." The girl raised an eyebrow, pushing her glasses up to where they sat crooked over her blue-jay eyes. "I'm sorry, was that a rhetorical question? Meant to make me shake in my boots? Sorry, I forgot." With that, she turned and strode out of the library, two books under her arm, not looking back. Damas shook his head and turned back to his teacher, intending to use his studies to forget about her.

Three hours later, Damas turned to Mattie while sitting on the roof and said, "She's just some stupid girl, anyway. What do I care if she thinks I'm a womanizing jerk?"

"Well, considering you haven't shut up about her since I came up here," the servant said, yawning, "I'd say you care quite a bit."

Damas glared at him, but Mattie just shrugged it off. Mattie was Damas' personal servant, had been since his father had died fighting the Metal Heads. Roma offered Mattie, as the orphaned son of a brave soldier, a home if he served the royal family. Since then, Damas and Mattie had been the closest of friends. Possibly because Damas didn't have any other ones, but friends all the same.

Damas had always been jealous of Mattie. He had earned the admiration of almost every boy who knew him (including Damas) and the adorations of every girl who ever saw him. Mattie and Damas were both _physically _attractive, but Mattie was the funny, clever one who actually got girls. Meanwhile, Damas couldn't talk to people because, well…

"Did it ever occur to you that she hit you because you have the social graces of a drunken Lurker?" Mattie asked. Damas rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, you have a certain…demeanor about you that scares people away when you talk."

"If that's true, why are you still here?" Damas replied.

"Well, smartass, I was deprived of oxygen at birth. My survival instincts have obviously been hampered. Yet I'm not socially awkward with strange girls at the library."

"That's because you never go in there. I'm shocked you even know what a library is."

"Of course I do," Mattie said, lying back against the glass window panes. "It's a very sweet, yet somehow sour, berry picked from a tree that makes false promises."

Damas snorted. "Shut up, Mattie. Why am I the womanizing jerk? You have a new girlfriend every week."

"Easy. I don't flirt with smart girls. None of my former girlfriends know what the word 'womanizing' means."

"They probably don't even know what 'library' means," Damas agreed, standing up. "Come on, let's get inside before my dad has a fit."

Inside, Mattie bade farewell and headed for the kitchens, leaving Damas alone to contemplate his social awkwardness. He really wanted to go back to the library and apologize, just to prove her wrong. He sighed.  
At least, he thought as he crawled into bed, tomorrow was Saturday. A day of freedom, nothing important to do.

* * *

Damas loved Haven Forest. It was beautiful and green, always fresh and crisp, easy to breath. No pollution, no books, no mention of Mar, and no people to call him a womanizing jerk, no one to comment on his bad people skills. Just him, alone, in the forest. Sometimes, he ran through it, racing against nothing; he climbed the trees, jumped on the rocks, swam along the stream. And sometimes, Damas didn't feel like doing anything. He'd just sit on the tree stump that sat in the shade on the edge of the water.

He inhaled as he headed for that spot. Everywhere else was too dark, hidden by the trees, but this little stump had it all: shaded, but the sunlight filtered in and sparkled on the water. It was perfect for fishing, dipping your feet in the water, or even just doing nothing.  
And reading, apparently. Damas saw her at the same time she saw him. She smirked and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, shutting her book.

"Hey, there, Casanova. Come to apologize?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Siren: Chapter Two! Yip!**

**Muse: What the hell...? Yip?**

**Siren: Eh, I was bored. Yip seemed the appropriate response to a second chapter.**

**Muse: Disclaimer!**

**(poof) Torn: Sirens & Muses don't own Jak 3.**

**Siren: Review please!  
**

* * *

The girl smiled genially from her spot on the tree stump. Scratch that, _his_ spot on the tree stump.

"I've seen you every day from up on that cliff," she said, gesturing to a shaded place above them. "But I never had any great desire to speak to you before now."

"Yeah?" Damas said agitatedly. "Why'd you start now? Morbid curiosity?"

"Because whenever I thought about you, I figured you'd be a brilliant, strong warrior who would lead Haven City well." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose again. "Now I've realized you're nothing but a spoiled, self-serving, womanizing, fathead of a pretty-boy prince. So I decided to spend my time down here, on this stump, in your face instead."

Damas narrowed his eyes. "So quick to make judgments. Get out of my spot."

She leaned forward. "Make me."

He seized her around the middle and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed and beat at him, making his grip slip. She took the opportunity to hit him in the gut, making him drop her. She tried to get up, but Damas grabbed her again, this time upside down. She shrieked and kicked her legs, almost smacking him in the face. He held her tighter as she thrashed and wiggled. "Wait, wait, wait!" she screamed. "Don't move!"

Damas froze at her panicked voice. He was holding her with his arms wrapped around her upper stomach and her spine against his chest. At first, he thought that he'd grabbed her too tightly and hurt her. But then she hissed, "Your arm band…is in…my hair! Get your arm band out of my hair!"

Somewhere in her struggling, her blond locks of hair had gotten caught in his metal arm band. "Okay," he said. "Wrap your legs around my neck, and I'll untangle it."

"You'd like it if I did that, wouldn't you?" she said angrily. "No doing, buddy, I'm not about to let a pervert put his head anywhere near my legs."

"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll just yank really hard and rip your hair out."

The girl sighed. "Fine." She bent her knees, tightening her legs around his neck. "If you say or do anything perverted, I will break your nose."

Damas carefully slid his other hand behind her back and untangled his arm band from her thick hair. "Geez, what did you eat this morning, a metal head?" He groaned, supporting her weight solely on his neck.

"Just hurry up," she said, annoyed. "This is a pretty uncomfortable position."

"It's not too fun for me, either," he growled, pulling strands of blond-green out of the ornate metal jewelry. "Although, I could get used to it," he added, just to irritate her. "It's a pity you're not wearing a skirt."

Damas freed his arm and released her just as she said, "Okay, that's enough!" and unwrapped her legs. She crashed down onto the green grass, grunting as she landed.

"Ow…" She glared at him, enraged, as she stood up. "I can't believe you…you, you pervert!" She slapped him, leaving a bright red mark across his face.

"Ahh…" Damas moaned, rubbing his face. "That stings. You're not very lady-like."

She stomped on his foot. He groaned, at the same time noticing that she was wearing heavy boots, boots suitable only for manual labor.

"Tough shoes for a tough gal, sweetheart," Damas remarked.

"I told you not to call me sweetheart," she said angrily.

"I told you to get out of my spot," he retorted.

She narrowed her eyes. Her beautiful, sky-blue eyes, which he couldn't seem to stop staring into. He shook his head to clear it and stared her down.

"It would seem," she breathed, "that we are at an impasse. Might I suggest a compromise?"

"No, you may not," Damas answered. "I was in that spot first. It's _my_ spot, Tough Gal."

"Well, I'm not giving up," she said, a smile playing on her face. "So I think you're out of luck, unless you want to fight me, Tough Guy."

Damas was slightly taken aback at her abrasive manner. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had never learned to fight. His father had emphasized learning above fighting, so Damas was no warrior. And he was sure that in a fight, even with a five-foot-nothing, spunky blond girl, his ass would be kicked. But he wasn't about to let her find that out.

"Okay, I'll consider a compromise," Damas agreed. "But there's a condition."

She eyed him wearily. "What?"

"Tell me your name," he said.

"…Fine. My name is Alleene."

"Pretty name," he commented. She narrowed her eyes.

"If you're flirting with me, stop," she said. "Here's the deal: I sit on one side of the stump, you sit on the other."

"I'm not flirting with you," Damas said, annoyed. "I'm just…saying…it's a nice name. I like Tough Gal better, though."

Alleene ignored him to sit beside the stump. She pulled a book back and cracked it open, engrossed in her story. Leaving Damas alone.

_Good,_ he thought. _Now I can enjoy my time in peace._

Twenty minutes later, he stared into the trees, trying not to be bored. She'd ignored him steadily since opening the book. He glanced over at her.

"What are you reading?" he questioned.

At first, she didn't answer. Then, "_The Slaves from Beyond_. It's about the plight of Lurkers."

"Lurkers?" The only thing Damas knew about Lurkers was that they were unintelligent and only useful for manual labor. "What about them?"

"Did you know," she said, "that Lurkers are transported in dirty cages, barely six feet wide? And that's if they're legally traded. Lurkers that are sold on the black market are lucky to even get a cage. They're drugged, chained, and dragged through the sewers. Some of them don't even survive the trip."

"Calm down," Damas said, alarmed. She sounded like she was going to cry. "They're just Lurkers."

"Just Lurkers?" She turned to him, jaw set in anger. "Just Lurkers? Don't you understand? They're living, breathing beings, and they deserve to survive. They shouldn't have to live in hiding, isolated from humans, to keep themselves safe. They are deprived of their rights and freedoms, to be enslaved by people…people like you!"

Damas glared at her. "People like _me_? You make me sound like a monster."

"I hate people like you," she said. "People like you think they can have everything they want. You've never had to work a day in your life, have you?"

"What does that have to do with Lurker rights?" he asked incredulously.

"Everything! As the prince of Haven City, you have incredible influence over the people." Alleene made a noise of disgust in her throat. "Precursors only know why they look up to you, but they do."

"Wait a second." Damas held up his hand. "Lurkers are vile animals. Years ago, Mar fought a war against them beca-"

"If you knew your history," she interrupted, "you would know that the war was fought against primitive, eco-exposed Lurkers. The intelligent, human-like, peaceful Lurkers lived in hidden caves. And you would also know that Mar enlisted their help against the Metal Heads when they attacked."

"Lurkers fought for the Metal Heads earlier in the war," Damas said. "The only reason they agreed to fight against them was because Mar offered them eco."

"No soldier fights for free," she argued.

"This is stupid," Damas responded. "Lurkers are the city's slave labor, and nothing you say or do will change that."

"…Maybe I can." With that, she snapped her book shut and stalked off, heading for the exit. Just as she passed Damas, however, she stopped. "Oh, and I forgot."

He didn't have time to dodge before Alleene's boot slammed into the side of his head. As stars swarmed in front of him, she grabbed his collar and lifted him to make eye contact.

"I _am_ tough," she growled. "Get used to it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Siren: Holo, readers of J&D fics! We have returned.**

**Muse: Yaaay! Disclaimer!**

**(poof) Random Milkshake: Sirens & Muses don't own J&D!**

**Siren: Ooh, I love milkshakes! Come here so I can drink you!**

**Random Milkshake: No! Back, fiend! I am strawberry!**

**Siren: Aw...allergies suck.**

**Muse: Yes, yes, we all know it's such a hassle for you to avoid anaphylactic**** shock. Review please!**

* * *

The worst part of Damas' injury wasn't the goose egg right above his temple. It was the sting to his pride that hurt the most. He'd just finished retelling his tale for Mattie, who was trying hard to stifle his laughter. The two were sitting on the roof, with Damas pressing an ice pack to his injury.

"I don't understand why she was such a bitch to me," Damas grumbled. "I had the spot first."

"I can't believe you got into a pissing contest with a girl…_and lost_." The dam burst, and Mattie let out a shout of laughter. "I mean, really. I've lost all respect for you as a man."

Damas, who was used to Mattie's smart remarks, punched him in the shoulder. "She was just so…aggravating. So stubborn, so…hard headed."

"You do know you're describing yourself, right?" Mattie leapt up suddenly and quickly straightened his clothes. "Damn, I forgot. I'll see you later." With that, he clambered back through the window and disappeared.

Damas was used to Mattie spontaneously leaving like this. He would often bolt away mid-conversation and reappear a few hours later, taking it back up like nothing had happened. Damas was curious about where he went, but Mattie always dodged the question, so he stopped asking. It was simply a private matter, a boundary that Damas didn't cross.

The boys had always had a unique relationship. Mattie's father, a soldier, had died when Mattie was only a few months old, leaving him an orphan. Mattie was raised by the servants, and when he was old enough, trained to be Damas' personal servant. Damas didn't really have much use for a personal servant, so instead he spent his time simply hanging out on the roof with him. Over time, the two became inseparable; it was common to see Damas in the kitchen, sitting on the counter while Mattie went about his work.

When they got to school-age, Mattie went to the local public school, while Damas had specialized teachings from a private tutor. Every day, Mattie would come back with stories that sounded like far-fetched adventures in a storybook.

In middle school, Mattie came home with tales of gossip and girls, parties and laughter. Damas, meanwhile, simply listened, enthralled. He had no stories to share. In high school, Mattie discovered the bars around Haven City and spent his time partying and drinking. Damas, meanwhile, met the parents of the girl who he had been engaged to since he was six. His life began to feel more and more stifling as Mattie's got more interesting.

Damas sighed and climbed through his window, flopping on the bed. His head was pounding; he needed sleep. It had been a long day.

* * *

"Rise up against this injustice!" Damas rolled over and groaned, shielding his eyes from the light streaming in. There was the sound of a crowd roaring their approval from below him. Sleepily, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the window.

"Now is the time for change!" a familiar voice was shouting. "How long will we stand by and watch while our fellow beings are degraded, humiliated, and executed?" A roar of excitement rose up.

"What the hell…?" Damas rubbed his eyes. All he could see was a mass of people surrounding one individual, who was standing what looked like box. His stomach dropped.

"Damas, wake your lazy ass up, you gotta see this!" Mattie burst into the room, leapt over the bed, and landed on his feet beside his friend. "Oh, good, you're up. Are you seeing this?"

"Yeah," Damas said. "Mattie, that's-"

"She's been going at it for an hour now, but nobody was interested until she started badmouthing King Roma," Mattie interrupted excitedly. "To be honest, I don't think half those people know what she's talking about."

"Mattie," Damas said urgently. Mattie ignored him.

"I'm waiting to see if it turns into a riot, or if she's arrested first," he said, squinting to see out the window.

"Mattie! That's Alleene!" Damas yelled. Mattie raised an eyebrow. "The girl from the library. The one who kicked me!"

"Whoa!" Mattie pressed his face closer to the glass. "_That's_ your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, tha-she's not my girlfriend!" Damas shot him a look. "What part of 'kicking me in the face' gave you that idea?"

"Look!" Both boys stared down as Alleene resumed her speech.

"As long as our king supports slavery, slavery will continue to exist! Speak out against such cruel tactics! The harm of another living creature cannot and will not be condoned by the citizens of Haven City!" The crowd gave another cheer.

"I can't see her that well," Mattie said. "Come on, let's go out on the roof."

Both boys climbed out into the warm morning sun and stared down at the crowd below, which was slowly getting bigger. They were still unable to make out her face clearly, but her voice was louder.

"Lurkers have the same rights as you and I do, my friends! Let's do our part to rid the city of this vile practice before it becomes engrained in our society any further. Free the Lurkers!"

A chant of "Free the Lurkers" rose up from the crowd. Over the noise, another voice was becoming clearer.

"You must disperse, or you will all be arrested!" Damas leaned further over the edge of the roof to see a group of City Guards trying to muscle their way through the crowd, to no avail.

"And now the king sends his goons to try to silence us! But you cannot silence justice, nor can you stop change!" Another roar of approval from the crowd.

"She's good," Mattie said, impressed.

"You are inciting a violent act! Please disperse, or we will arrest you!" The guards were now being beaten back by the crowd.

"I am inciting truth, and hope, and knowledge! I am enlightening the people to the cruel, heartless way we treat our brethren! Violence is not our prerogative!" Alleene restarted the chant, clapping her hands with each syllable. "Free the Lurker! Free the Lurkers!"

"She's got quite a mouth on her, doesn't she?" Mattie said slyly. "It's sort of…sexy. In an edgy way."

Damas punched him. "It's not 'sexy', it's annoying. Why does she have to organize a riot to get her point across?"

"You have to admit, though," Mattie said while the crowd grew quiet. "The girl's got spunk. Standing up like that? It takes balls."

"And here is His Highness himself!" Alleene shouted. The crowd answered with a loud chorus of jeers. "The man behind the palace! Tell me, to what do we owe your illustrious company, King Roma?" she said, sarcasm dripping in her voice.

"Precursors! Your dad's down there!" Mattie and Damas both leaned over the edge further to get a good look. Indeed, Roma was standing with the guards, drawn up to his full height in indignation. The crowd had grown quiet after their outburst, so Roma's voice rang loud and clear.

"I'll give you one chance, girl. Step down and disperse this crowd, or I'll have you arrested."

"You can't arrest all of us!" she said venomously. "Your prisons are full enough already!"

"Silence! I will not be spoken to like that," Roma roared. "You, miss, are out of line!"

"No, you're out of line!" Alleene shot back. "You preach that Haven City is a safe place, a good place, and that equality reigns. Yet you not only condone, but encourage the enslavement of an entire group! How can you ignore justice and morality and be so blatantly cruel? You, sir, are no king."

The crowd didn't cheer for her speech this time. Instead, they watched as Roma snapped his fingers and pointed the guards forward. "You, little girl," he said triumphantly, "are going to be taught a hard lesson about respect. The prisons can take one more deviant."

"You're a joke!" she yelled, jumping off her box and heading towards him. "Jail time doesn't scare me, and it doesn't scare anyone else here!" She gestured to the crowd behind her, some of which looked quite scared. "These walls are as much a prison as the real one. Our city, the slums, the stadium, even your palace is a prison! It's just a little prettier than most."

"Young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?" Roma asked angrily, leaning down to see her eye-to-eye.

"For myself? Nothing. For you? Go to hell." She spit in his face. At once, the guards had grabbed her and handcuffed her. "A tyrant!" she continued screaming. "You silence those you deem a threat to your stability! But the people of Haven won't stand by and do nothing. You will get your just deserts, Roma, believe you me. Your grand palace will crumble on you!"

Alleene's yelling kept on until she was thrown roughly into a buggy and driven away. The crowd disappeared, filtering back into the mass of people milling around. Roma and the rest of the guards left, presumably back to the palace. All that was left of Alleene's demonstration was the box she'd been standing on.

Mattie whistled. "Damn. Smart, tough, _and _beautiful. Sounds like you hit the trifecta."

"I didn't 'hit' anything," Damas said as they climbed back inside. "In fact, I want nothing to do with her. She's too…_wavy_."

"Wavy?" Mattie gave him a sideways glance. "What does that mean?"

"You know, she makes waves wherever she goes. Wavy." Damas made an indecipherable hand motion.

"Yeah, that made sense." Mattie rolled his eyes. "I think we should go see her."

"What? You mean visit the prison?" Damas grabbed an outfit out of his closet. "Why?"

"Well, I think she's…pretty cool. I mean, she just single-handedly started a revolt against slavery. Talk about ambition."

"I don't get it," Damas complained as he got dressed. "What's the big deal about Lurkers being used as slaves?"

"…You don't think slavery is wrong?" Mattie asked, surprised.

"It's not that. I just...never gave it that much thought before." He yanked his shirt over his head to see Mattie giving him a strange look. "What's with that face?"

"No," Mattie mused. "No, I guess you wouldn't think about it."

"What does that mean?"

Mattie hopped up on the bed and leaned back. "Well, you've never been a servant. You've never been at someone's beck and call; you've never faced beatings for inferior work. You're a prince, and you always will be."

The room was still for a few seconds as Damas let that sink in. Mattie didn't sound angry or bitter, but there was a hard tone in his voice that sounded…strange. Foreign, as if it hadn't come from the mouth of a young, carefree teenager. Finally, Mattie cleared his throat.

"So, we gonna visit her, or not?"

"Yeah." Damas slid on his jacket and Mattie stood up. "Let's go."


End file.
